


Stop Pulling on my Heart

by Snazzeo



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Biphobia, Bisexual Dustin Henderson, Bisexual Lucas Sinclair, Bisexual Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Bisexual Mike Wheeler, But he gets better though, DnD is gay now, Don't worry, Eighteen by the end, Everyone Is Gay, Except to Will (Mostly), F/F, F/M, Gay Will Byers, Happy ending with angst for good measure, I do love season 3 tho, I wrote the first 3 chapters before Season 3 came out, Like really slow, M/M, Mike Wheeler is kinda an asshole, Pansexual Eleven | Jane Hopper, Period-Typical Homophobia, Robin will appear, Sam is a troubled soul, She's also still a Lesbian, Slow Burn, Thanks Will!, Wow, accept it heteros, and I didn't want to rewrite them, and people don't think there in love? Seriously y'all, byler, everyone is bi, it takes a while, like attempted suicide troubled, like really troubled, so season 3 isn't canon, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2020-07-11 22:01:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19935181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snazzeo/pseuds/Snazzeo
Summary: (I'm bad at summaries, sorry).Hawkins, IN. Summer. 1985 (A lot of time passes though).Will can't get over his feelings for his best friend, no matter how much he wants to. He tries to hide it from the party, his mom, his brother, Hopper. The only person who knows is the only other gay kid in Hawkins, who just so happens to be in Will's art class. Will has no idea how to move forward.Mike shouldn't feel the way he does. He has a girlfriend, whom he really likes. But, for some reason, he can't stop staring at Will Byers. That new kid from Will's art class doesn't exactly make Mike's life easy though.Sam wants to start over. He wants to forget about who he used to be. About, the boy. He tries to keep his head low in Hawkins, small Indianan towns aren't known for their progressive views on queer people after all. He succeeds until he meets Will Byers. God, why did he always have to fall for the cute artsy boys?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah. This is my first multi-chapter fic, and it's really bad, so I'd appreciate all the feedback you could give me. Stranger Things is one of my favorite shows ever, and I've wanted to write a multi-chapter Byler focused fic for a really long time, so here is my (first) attempt. I'll also try to work concurrently on an S3 canon fic as well, I have the first 3 (and a bit) chapters of this written, so they should be coming out around once every 3-5 weeks for a while. Okay, that's it, hope you like it, byeeeeeeeeeeeee.
> 
> Trigger warning for the f-slur, just FYI.

Will thought this was a really bad idea.

Sure, he missed Dustin as much as everyone else in the party did. The party’s whole dynamic had been thrown wildly out of whack ever since Dustin had left for camp nearly three weeks ago. The nerdy, awkward foundation on which their collective friendship had been built upon shone the brightest it ever did when Dustin wasn’t actively trying to get Lucas to bite his head off. Still, when Max pitched the idea of scaring Dustin when he got home tomorrow, Will couldn’t help but hesitate. The rest of the party, however, didn’t share Will’s tentativeness.

“Aw, c’ mon Will,” Lucas had scoffed at him when he voiced his unwillingness. “He’ll think it’s hilarious.” Will rolled his eyes. “No, you just want to get back at him for beating Max’s Dig Dug score over Spring Break,” Will replied back at the skinny 14-year-old. Lucas’ eyes quickly fluttered from Will across the Byers’ cramped kitchen to Max, who gave Lucas an interrogatory glare before Lucas looked back at Will, replying sheepishly “Well… yeah, a little.”

“It’ll be fun, Will.” Will heard a soft male voice say from the back of the room. He had almost forgotten Mike was still there at all, he had barely said a word to anyone who wasn’t his girlfriend in, if Will had to be honest, probably months. The two had been sitting together in the neighboring living room, in the same loveseat on which just last October, Bob Newby and Will’s mom had snuggled up to each other, giggling and screaming at TV sitcoms late into the night. Mike and El were snuggled up to each other in the same way now, El’s smooth arms around Mike’s long neck, her legs draped haphazardly over his. Will was surprised that the pair had even been able to follow the conversation, their constant giggling and gasps had made it hard for Will to pay any attention to anything.

He wasn’t really mad at El. Jealous? Okay, yeah. A bit. Maybe. But, even where people wouldn’t string him up because of his whole, thing, Will knew that Mike wouldn’t see him the same way. He just wanted to be the other person on that small brown couch, so close and yet not uncomfortably so. He wanted to run his hands through Mike’s recently long black hair, the way El was right now. Mike’s hair wasn’t naturally that straight (an irony not lost upon Will). It grew out so curly that Max had frequently mocked Mike by telling him he should cut his hair “before it starts to braid itself.” Will disagreed with Max’s proclamation and was incredibly disappointed when El had asked Mike to start straightening his hair, a request which Mike had earnestly obliged.

Max snapped her fingers in Will’s face, attempting to jostle him from his stupor. “Hey Byers,” Max said in her trademarked sweet, yet sharp tone. “You gonna make up your mind? We need the whole party in for this to work.” Will snapped back to attention, Max’s words and rather aggressive snapping startling him from his gaydream. “Yeah,” Will replied quietly. “Sorry.”

Max looked at him pointedly, “Well?” She asked. “You in or not?” Will considered for a moment, then sighed with resignation. “Sure, I guess.” he acquiesced. Will noticed a wry smile creeping onto Max’s face, and quickly added: “But when Dustin hits us all with Steve’s bat, I’ll use whatever’s left of my face muscles to tell you I told you so.” Max rolled her eyes in the same bemused way Will had earlier. Lucas snickered a little under his breath. Will looked behind him into the living room to try to catch Mike’s reaction, only to notice a sudden lack of black hair and giggling girl on the couch. He turned back to Lucas and Max, a confused grimace on his face. “Where’d they go?” he asked the pair, already knowing the answer to his question. “They snuck out while we were talking,” Max replied. “Again,” Lucas added pointedly.

Lucas was right. This wasn’t the first time Mike and El had suddenly disappeared since they danced together at the Snow Ball last December. Will had a hard time recollecting a time since that night when he had seen Mike and El apart. The closest they came to being apart was in class. Hawkins Middle School had allowed for them to sit together in all their classes during the second semester, when El had started schooling, basic reading, and language comprehension barely in hand, so that Mike could act as a tutor for the girl that, the administration had been told, was a Swedish orphan whom Chief Hopper had adopted over the previous summer. Within a week, the pair had been exiled to opposite corners of their classes, for the teachers feared gross amounts of PDA if drastic measures weren’t taken.

Will had ended up as El’s de facto tutor after that whole mess had been sorted. It made sense. Will was passing all his classes with flying colors, and El basically lived at the Byers’ ever since Joyce and Hopper started dating around Valentine’s Day. She spent most nights she wasn’t at the Wheeler’s at Will’s, so helping her catch up made logical sense. Still, when their friendly study sessions would all too often be interrupted by the arrival of her boyfriend, and their subsequent disappearance that he would often have to explain, Will couldn’t help but feel as if the universe was playing a practical joke on him. _Yes, not only do you have a crush on your straight best friend, but you have to tutor his girlfriend, who by the way, in all likelihood will be your stepsister by year’s end. Oh, and also, fuck you, if you didn’t get that already._

Will sighed. “Well, we’re not going to see them again today.” he joked half-heartedly. Both Max and Lucas snickered. Will had always thought they worked really well together, even if they were (technically) on a break at the moment, their third break since the Snow Ball. Even when they were actively dating though, they were much less in-your-face about it than Mike and El were. They were just less physical than those two. Sure, Lucas and Max would hold hands in the halls, and one would occasionally give the other a peck in public, but they knew how uncomfortable some people could get, so Lucas agreed to stay off Max in public.

“Yeah,” Lucas replied. “Probably not.” Max quickly changed the subject, Will noticed. As if somehow she wanted to stop thinking about Mike and El together as much as Will did. “You nerds wanna hit up Starcourt tomorrow?” she asked. Will knew he didn’t have anything going on tomorrow, so he nodded in assent. Lucas was the one who sighed this time. “I can’t guys,” Lucas said. “It’s Sunday, remember?” Will knew what he meant. The Sinclair family had taken to throwing excruciatingly long (according to Lucas and Max) family get-togethers every Sunday. Will thought their cause was a futile one, the odds of one person fighting off an army of Demo-Dogs was greater than Lucas and Erica ever getting along, but he admired their tenacity, even if it had thrown a wrench in their plans more than once. Will was getting tired of Max’s complaining sessions over the supercomm though.

Max rolled her eyes again. “Your parents do know that you two aren’t ever going to get along with each other, right?” she asked, a little more edge in her voice than was usually present. Will rolled his eyes again as well. “Chill out Max,” he said, a little exasperatedly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________  
The next morning, Will woke up incredibly early. Lucas and Max had left almost immediately after their conversation had ended. Jonathan and Nancy were out last night, and his mom was working late, so that left Will all alone in the empty, airy single floor house. Will used to love being alone. He liked the quiet that let him think and draw. But, moreover, the loneliness felt protective. But, after the last two summers, Will’s perspective on being alone had completely shifted. It now got too quiet whenever he was alone. The silence instead of bringing him safety brought him back there instead. It had gotten better recently, he had fewer nightmares than he had at the start of the year. He hadn’t even had any that night, he was just incredibly restless.

When Will woke up, he turned towards his nightstand, and read the display of his digital alarm clock. 5:45 it read. Will groaned in frustration, rolled back over, and pulled his pillow over his face. He tried to fall back asleep, for almost an hour and a half, but he failed to. At around 7:15, he rolled back over to his nightstand and grabbed his supercomm. He turned the radio to channel 54, his and Mike’s private channel. They kept the number secret from the rest of the party, though Dustin had an ability to find the frequency with suspicious frequency, so they’d had to change the channel frequently. Will was almost surprised they had been able to keep with this frequency this long.

He whispered into his microphone, incredibly softly, as not to wake his mother, who he knew had gotten home only a few hours ago, “Mike, are you there? Over.” Will received no response. He tried again, slightly louder. “Mike, come in. Over.” No response. “Mike, come in.” Will said, becoming annoyed to a degree where he forgot to include the customary ending to his communique. Mike again failed to respond to his call. _He’s probably still asleep,_ Will rationalized. _At home. Alone. By himself. Not with El, definitely not. But, you wouldn’t care if he was. You’re not jealous. You’re not._

Will finally rolled out of bed and ambled towards the kitchen to make some coffee. Will had what Max often described as a “coffee problem.” Will always took it black. No milk, no creamer, no sugar. Just the dark liquid that stings on the way down. He started grinding beans when Joyce Byers walked into the kitchen, hair frazzled, dark circles under her eyes. Will knew she didn’t get enough sleep but decided not to mention that fact to her as he waved at her upon her entrance.  
“Morning sweetie,” Joyce yawned cheerily. She had begun to give Will a bit more space than she used to starting during spring break, but she was still the same woman she had been last fall. She had started working more ever since Bob had died last October, even after she and Hopper had started dating. In addition to her retail day job, Joyce had started working at Ollie’s, a diner in downtown Hawkins that the party had agreed to avoid out of respect.  
Will had sat down now with his coffee, not looking up from his sketchbook as Joyce began to make breakfast and asking him about his plans for the day. For his 14th birthday, Mike had bought him that sketchbook. Handcrafted leather cover, 300 thick, bound, 8” x 10” pages, Will’s name embossed into the cover. Will had protested and tried to refuse to accept the gift. The sketchbook was simply too nice. Mike had just smiled, pushing back with equal stubbornness, “it should belong to somebody who won’t waste it.”

Will had decided that he wouldn’t waste the luxury his best friend had bought him. He used that sketchbook every single day, for a variety of purposes. He drew objects, portraits, landscapes, abstract pieces, pretty much whatever he felt like that day. Today, he was working on a figure drawing he had started the day previously. He was drawing a lanky, long black-haired, freckled boy. Of course, though he could and would deny it, Will was drawing Michael Wheeler. He had long since memorized the specific details in Mike’s soft face. Mike had grown a great deal since the Snow Ball. The fat had fallen from his face, outlining newly sharp cheekbones on a face that, Will could believe less than ever, anyone would describe as a “frog face.” His 26 freckles dotted his otherwise pale complexion. Of course, Will had memorized all these details purely for the platonic pursuit of sketching, without any kind of ulterior motive. Nope, definitely not. Will’s dreams did not end up vividly and disappointingly real because of how closely Dream Mike resembled Real Mike. Definitely not. Totally platonic, not weird dreams about his straight best friend.

  
“Is that new?” Joyce asked as she sat down in the chair across from Will’s seat at the small wooden table, a half-eaten slice of toast dangling loosely from her left hand. Will nodded, still not looking up from his sketchbook. “Who ya drawing?” She pressed. Will knew she could totally see his sketchbook from where she was sitting. He thought for a moment whether he should say anything. “Uh, Mike,” he finally said, tentatively. Joyce nodded and smiled at Will reassuringly. He wasn’t sure why he was acting so guarded. No one who he cared about knowing suspected, or even seriously asked Will if he was queer. The only person who knew was Sam, the freshman who sat next to Will in art class. The two of them had met at the start of the second semester, when Will had begun to take high school art classes first period, on special request from Joyce Byers. The administration decided they’d rather handle the logistics of an 8th grader commuting to and from high school than talk more to Joyce.

  
Sam was new to Hawkins, he had told Will that he had moved to the small town over Christmas break from Chicago, and had started at Hawkins High the same day Will sat down for his first art class there. Will had been a little taken aback, though not surprised when Sam had dropped into a casual conversation during class that he had broken up with his boyfriend a few weeks before moving to Hawkins.

  
Will greatly envied how comfortable Sam was when presenting his sexuality. Where Will folded whenever someone used his sexuality against him, Sam had an uncanny ability to take that energy being thrown at him, and send it right back to blow up in the abuser’s face.  
About a week after Sam’s nonchalant coming out, Sam was walking with Will through the Middle School section of the building to Will’s next class, when Troy stepped out from seemingly nowhere. “Good morning, fairies,” Troy sneered at the pair. His friend and partner-in-assholery (the title Max had awarded him) James suddenly appeared as well, and the two of them began to corner Will and Sam against the lockers. If he were alone, this encounter probably would’ve ended up with some insults, Will crying a little, and no doubt a visit to Principal Kenner’s office. But, Will wasn’t alone. And Sam hated playing defense. “Hey handsome,” Sam had cooed back at Troy in a seductive tone. “ Good morning to you too.”

  
Troy was a little taken aback. He wasn’t used to his prey fighting back, and he didn’t know how to react. Sam plowed on, unperturbed. “Look, baby,” Sam continued. “How about we meet up behind the gym again after school. Same time as before?” James looked at Troy, wonder, and disgust apparent on his face. Will looked at Sam in pure awe of what he couldn’t discern was a blatant lie, incredibly idiotic, or both. It was probably both. Probably. “Shut up, faggot,” Troy said back, defensively. “Whatever,” Sam sighed dramatically. “Just remember honey, if you ever get tired of that airbag you call a girlfriend, you know where to find me.”  
The hall had fallen silent, observing the spectacle. Finally, Troy and James scampered off back from wherever they had come from. Will quickly dragged Sam towards his next class, avoiding eye contact with everyone staring at him and Sam. “The hell was that Sam?” Will had asked him when they were alone. and had gotten far enough away from the earlier commotion. “I don’t follow,” Sam said, seemingly unaware of the gravity of what had just occurred. Will shook his head, exasperated. “You can’t just say that to Troy Harrington,” he said in a tone that could only be described as a ‘shout-whisper.’ “Trust me, you don’t want to get a reputation-”

  
“As a faggot,” Sam interrupted Will’s advice. “Right?” Will was a little startled. “I was going to use some less harsh language,” he said quietly, a little softer in tone. “But yeah.” Sam sighed, disappointedly. “If we keep hiding, no one’s going to stick up for us,” Sam said purposefully, before walking back in the direction of the high school building. Will’s heart skipped a beat. He moved to block Sam’s pathway before he could get too far. “We?” he asked Sam sharply. Sam didn’t answer Will’s question. He looked behind Will for a second and then pointed to a spot behind him. Will turned around, and he knew immediately where Sam was pointing. At the end of the hallway, he saw El and Mike, walking and talking about something that Will could care less about. Sam put his arm down, bent towards Will’s right ear, and whispered, “Dark-haired kid, right?”

  
Will knew Sam knew the answer already. He just stared at Mike, taking in all the details he knew by heart. His beautiful long black hair that, no matter the lighting, always glistened slightly. His deep hazel eyes that Will got lost swimming in. His bright pink lips that, Will could never not think about putting his own on whenever he saw his best friend. Sam gave Will a knowing pat on the back, and continued off in the direction he had been going in earlier. “Us faggots gotta stick together, right?”  
__________________________________________________________________________________________

  
After his mother left for work, Will finished his breakfast at a snail’s pace. Joyce was a rotten cook, so as soon as he was old enough to know what a pan was, he always insisted that he’d make his own breakfast. Will wasn’t a much better cook than his mother, but he knew how to make something edible, at least. He worked on his drawing of Mike while he attempted to eat, blending in his pencil’s grays into the image. Penciling in the definition around Mike’s cheeks, adding in the dark circles that always seemed to haunt Mike’s eyes. After a few hours of working and intermittent breakfast, Will took a second to look back at his work, satisfied with the image of his friend staring back at him from off the page.

  
He looked down at the watch Mike had given him all those years ago, and that he hadn’t taken off since Mike had given it to him. 12:45. Shit. He was supposed to meet Max at 1:30. He needed to leave. Right now. Will hurriedly closed his sketchbook, stuffed it into the handed down backpack Jonathan had used when he was in middle school, ran out his front door, and hopped on his bike, riding down Mirkwood towards Starcourt.

  
Will still hated riding alone. His mom had (reluctantly) started allowing for him to ride on his own again that past April, when her and Jonathan’s schedules had make driving Will everywhere, less than practical. Will did his best to avoid traveling alone. He usually rode with Mike and El, whenever they decided to spend the night at the Byers’, or whenever Hopper was coming over to see Joyce. But, El had (probably) stayed at the Wheeler’s last night, and since Dustin was still Know Where until Tuesday, Will had to ride alone. He wasn’t scared of riding alone. El had closed the gate. He was gone. Nothing was going to jump out of the bushes and take him into the night.

  
Will just hated the feeling of being alone. It brought him back there. The running, the hiding. Trying to breathe, but the air being too thin to help. The tightness in his chest. Crying out for his mom. Jonathan. Mike. Someone. Anyone. And hearing nothing back. It all came back when he was alone. Will used to love being alone. The quiet let him think. It felt nice. That feeling was gone now. That security was gone.  
The ride went faster than Will expected. It being a summer Sunday afternoon, traffic was light on the roads, even downtown, and Will made it to Starcourt mall in a little under 35 minutes. Even with how quickly he had made it, he still noticed that Max had a little scowl on her face when Will finally found her among the mass of people in front of the mall’s grand white doors.  
“You’re late,” Max said, curtly and sternly.

  
“Am not!” Will replied, brandishing his wristwatch at the redhead. “I’m five minutes early!”

  
“You’re later than me, right? That makes you late.” A tiny hint of a smile begins to crack into Max’s frosty expression. Will hadn’t thought she was seriously upset, but he was glad at the confirmation of her ambivalence towards the (apparent) tardiness.

  
“It’s not my fault you don’t understand how time works!” WIll shot back, trying to match Max’s false edge, and sneak it into his own voice. It didn’t work. Both Max and WIll broke down and doubled over from laughter. “Come on Byers,” Max said once she had regained her breath. “Let’s go get something to eat.” Will took a deep breath, nodded, and attempting to compose themselves, the two headed through the mall’s large doors and towards the food court.  
Will really liked Max. He never understood why Mike was always so hostile towards her; even after the Mind Flayer left, and El had returned, Mike had never warmed up to her. Obviously, Will didn’t see her in the same way that Lucas and Dustin did, she was just really cool. And nice. Max had gotten a new deck recently, and now her board shone a brilliant royal purple. The two of them ended up at a KFC in a small cutout at the Southern end of the mall. They got a 10-piece bucket each and then made their way to the least disgusting empty table in the food court.

  
The mall was packed, as always. Everyone in the town was there, all the time, ever since the mall opened its doors last month. Everyone from Grandma Ester, Mike’s eccentric 85-year-old neighbor that took her gardening a little too seriously, to the high school mean girls Jonathan had spent his 4 years at Hawkins High avoiding, and everyone in between was at the mall at least once during the week. The mall was loud enough so that Max and Will had to practically shout at each other to attempt to have a conversation, and Will doubted that anyone around them had any idea of what they were talking about.  
The two friends chatted aimlessly about a variety of topics. Will opened by asking Max about the new gaming console her stepfather had bought her for her 14th birthday but quickly veered to a discussion over one of the party’s favorite new flicks, Back to the Future. Max loudly complained about the stupid summer assignment Mr. Gibbs had given them and interrogated Will about what he was planning to wear for Halloween. Will had tried to explain that he still needed time to decide on something to wear for a date 4 months in the future, but Max brushed off his comments as “distracting the prosecution.”  
After a while, Will’s mind began to wander away from the conversation. He couldn’t focus on mundane topics at the moment. He heard them again. The voices in his head that got louder and louder as the world got quieter. He heard them all, over and over again, overpowering his senses until he could see nothing, and hear only them.

  
Lonnie: Ain’t no son of mine gon’ be no stinkin’ fuckin’ faggot!

  
Jonathan: I thought you trusted me. I thought I could trust you!

  
Lucas: You’re what? That’s disgusting. Get the fuck away from me, fag.

  
Mike: I’m not like you, Will. I’m normal. Go away. Leave me alone.

  
“Will?” A tiny corner of Will’s drowning brain heard Max call his name. The voices kept getting louder. More powerful. Will felt himself sinking, deeper and deeper. He felt colder and more disconnected. He felt disgusting and wrong. He wasn’t used to it all being this bad. But, he couldn’t get rid of the voices that had wedged themselves so deeply into his own head.

  
“Will! Are you okay?” Will felt his body be shaken, and suddenly, he came up for air. He was back in Starcourt. The volume was again relentless. The chicken again smelled delectable. His friend was still there for him, though looking a little concerned.  
“Yeah,” Will barely managed to say, still weak from his day-mare. “I’m alright.” Max didn’t buy it. Will could hardly blame her, he didn’t believe his own deflection. “What’s the damage, Byers?” Max asked.

  
Will didn’t know what he was going to say. He was prepared to lie. Say something about the Demogorgon, or the Mind Flayer, or the Upside Down. Or, just keep up his charade of being okay, and just lost in thought. He wanted to pretend that he was normal and happy, not broken and gross. But, some part of him knew that he couldn’t. He couldn’t go on in this limbo anymore. He couldn’t pretend that there wasn’t a gaping maw inside him, swallowing up all the hopes and aspirations he ever had, leaving behind nothing but an empty husk that used to be Will Byers wandering around, acting as if it still has a soul.  
The voices got louder again, telling him to hide, go away. Jump off the side of the quarry and spare everyone the pain of WIll Byers being a disgusting faggot. But, Will knew the voices would win if he did. They’d be right. He would be disgusting. He needed to push through, and keep his head above water. There was only one way Will thought he could do that.

  
Will took a sharp breath in and looked directly into the watery blue eyes of his redheaded friend. “Max,” he said slowly, barely choking back tears. “I’m gay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, that's it. Next chapter won't drag as much, I promise. Let me know what you thought, and where you might want the story to go. Always open to suggestions!


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party gives Dustin a surprise upon his return from camp. Mike is a total and complete clown. Sam worries about how Will will react when he reads the letter. Max is a good friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, this took me a while, Sorry about that. Regardless, here is the second chapter. Thanks to everyone who left feedback on the first chapter, I really appreciate all the support and positive reinforcement. You guys, the readers, are why I want to keep writing and keep posting. So, thank you so much. All feedback is considered and greatly appreciated, let me know what you think of this chapter.

Chapter Two

The two sat in silence for a moment, Max’s piercing blue eyes staring directly through Will. _Shit_ , Will thought. The voices returned, screaming louder than before. _Why did you tell her? She’s going to hate you now, you disgusting fag. She’s going to tell the whole party, and then you’re fucked. You’re absolutely fucked._

  
A second passes. Then another. Will’s heart beats faster and faster until he is sure it about to burst out of his chest. Another second, another beat. Max is still staring at Will. Then, she pulled a new leg out of her bucket and took an enormous bite of chicken. Will could barely make out her saying “cool,” through her gnashing teeth and the crunch of crispy golden chicken. Will was stunned. Shell-shocked. Thrown for at least 6 loops. “Cool?” he asked confusedly. “That’s it?”

  
“Yeah,” Max said, now abandoning the drumstick for an unusually large chicken nugget. “Pretty much. It’s whatever.” Will had no idea how to react. He was so prepared for her to flip out, scream, flip him off and ride off into the setting sun (somehow even though it was only 1:30, Will had dramatic nightmare scenarios) never to speak to him again that, he hadn’t allowed himself to consider what to do if she reacted like, well this.

  
“It’s whatever?” Will repeated back at Max, almost angry at how nonchalant and cavalier she was being.  
Max sighed and put her half-eaten piece of chicken back into her bucket with the rest of the half-eaten pieces. “Look, Will,” She started. “You’re my friend. I care about you. Whoever you wanna fuck won’t change that.”

  
Will just stared blankly at Max. The voices were quieting. He couldn’t believe what was happening. “You’re serious?” Will asked, still terrified for the answer. Max smirked and hit Will lightly on his left shoulder. “Uh, duh Byers,” Max said, chuckling a little. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

  
Will looked blankly at Max for a second, smiled, then laughed as 8-foot waves of relief crashed over him. The voices were finally silent. He felt lighter as if he was floating on a cloud. Max had started laughing too. She had learned the worst about him, and yet she was still here. And as the two of them sat there in the spacious yet crowded, unnaturally pristine mall, Will felt truly happy for the first time that he could remember in a long time.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________  
_The Next Day_

  
Dustin was more than a little ticked off by the time he had made it home. No, he wasn’t mad, not really. He was more, disappointed. Yes, that was a better word for it. He knew they’d be busy, it is the middle of summer after all, but the fact that no one from the party had been at the bus stop to greet him after he had been gone for three weeks had been more than a little upsetting. Tossing his suitcase up next to his pillow, Dustin slumped down on his bed. He brushed a few of his dark brown curls out of his face and set down his new green and yellow Camp Know Where hat on the nightstand opposite his bed. Dustin heard a meowing from around the corner. He turned around and saw his new ginger cat slink into the room.  
Dustin had secretly replaced Mews, the cat that Dart had eaten the Halloween previous, at around Christmas time. His mom was over the moon that her favorite little baby had shown back up just in time for a Christmas miracle, although she was a tad bit confused as to why “Mews” had suddenly forgotten how to use the litter-box. Around February, following a late-night arcade session (where Max TOTALLY cheated at Centipede and still won’t admit it, but he’s TOTALLY over it so it’s fine) Lucas had called the new cat “Tews,” and the nickname just stuck.

  
Tews meowed at Dustin and curled her fluffy tail around his leg. Dustin reached down to gently caress the fluffy appendage. He smirked forlornly at his cat and mused melancholically “At least someone’s happy I’m home.”  
Out of the corner of his eye, Dustin noticed a tiny red light begin to flash. He looked over towards his shelves and saw that his old R2D2 was on. He stood up and meandered over towards the shelves. As he reached to turn off the toy, something fell on his head. “Oh shit,” Dustin muttered, rubbing his the spot where the hard object hit his head. He looked down towards the carpet to see what fell, only to see a plastic Arnold Schwarzenegger staring back at him from the ground. He knelt down to pick up the action figure, only to feel something else fall on his head. Then another object hit the ground to his left. Then to his right. His left. Right. Left again. Dustin’s entire toy shelf had abandoned ship. The troop of toys began to march out the door and towards the staircase, wandering off towards the living room.

  
“Nope,” Dustin said, quickly grabbing the half-full can of Farrah Fawcett spray Steve had bought him for the Snow Ball. “Not again.” Dustin followed the toys, creeping noiselessly down the stairs, stalking the simulacrums like a tiger waiting to pounce. He was preoccupied with focusing so intently on the toys that he failed to notice the shadowy figures watching him from behind the staircase.

  
Dustin had continued following the toys into his living room when they suddenly fell to the ground, lifeless and unmoving. He slowly knelt down to the olive green throw rug, tentatively poking the toys to see if they would suddenly spring back to sentience. The toys stayed still, however, almost mocking Dustin with their averageness. Suddenly, Dustin heard a floorboard creak behind him. Then another. Someone was walking up behind him. He bolted up from the ground and whipped around to face where he had just come from. He was standing in front of a muscular, if somewhat skinny, African American of about average height. The man was holding something at about his stomach that Dustin didn’t have the time to process what it was. Dustin screamed in the face of the man and fired his hairspray directly into the man’s dark brown eyes.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Will heard slow-moving footsteps coming from the carpeted staircase above him. He peered out from his lookout perch at the end of the door. Dustin had reached the bottom of the staircase. For a moment, Will was afraid he would look back, and ruin their whole plan. But Dustin did not look back and he kept following the toys with intent and purpose. “Keep going,” Will whispered to the rest of the party, who were all lined up in the kitchen and behind the staircase. Lucas, Max, and Mike were lined up in a row, holding a large banner decorated with glitter glue, and intricate doodles Will had made in the margins. El was standing next to Mike. Her eyes closed, yet somehow they stared with violent intent and passion. A single streak of dark crimson blood inched its way down her cheek. Will noticed Mike repeatedly squeezing her hand in a regular pattern. It wasn’t hard to translate the Morse code in his head, but Will tried not to think about what Mike was saying to her.

  
El hadn’t used her powers since closing the gate in November, under strict orders from Hopper. Not everyone in the party was even sure that they would still work after how much strain she had put on herself, but she had been confident they would still work, so they had trusted her judgment when putting this plan together.

  
Will again peeked out from behind his hiding corner. Dustin had now been lured into the living room, the perfect place for him to be put in order to enact their plan. Will turned around and looked back at the party. “In position,” Will whispered. El’s eyes flashed open. The toys fell lifelessly to the olive green throw rug. Max pulled a Kleenex from her pocket, and handed it to El, which she took gratefully. El grabbed the sign with one hand and sidled up next to Mike. Will slid onto the left side of the sign, next to Max, and the five of them slowly sauntered forward towards the living room, and Dustin.

  
Dustin’s head whipped upward as the party entered the living room. The party prepared to hollar a greeting, Max had even passed out party poppers for everyone to set off when they read off the giant words on the sign. That was, until Dustin screamed at them, and shot them all in the face with hairspray. Lucas, being in the middle, caught the brunt of the onslaught. El fearfully clutched to Mike, avoiding any contact with the stinging liquid. Will ducked under the sign to escape being sprayed, which wasn’t hard, since he was still characteristically short.

  
Max was the first to recover her bearings. “It’s us, Stalker!” She shouted, still covering her eyes with her hands. Dustin stopped spraying and screaming. He opened his eyes, and read the lettering on the sign. The blocky, bold letters (obviously written by Lucas, they were incredibly sloppy. He still appreciated the effort though) read “WELCOME HOME DUSTIN!” Dustin read the words repeatedly, mouth agape throughout the process. He looked up at his friends, then back at the sign, then back at his friends. The hairspray fell out of his hand as Dustin ran up to Lucas and gave his friend a monstrous bear hug.

  
“Shit guys,” Will heard Dustin say, his voice muffled by Lucas’ bright orange sleeveless tee. He pulled out of the hug, and looked back at the rest of his friends. “Really sorry about that guys,” he continued, his somewhat garbled tone no longer blunted by skin and shirt. “Thought you were Demogorgons or something.” Will stood up, stepped over the sign, and gave his friend a hug. He was probably closer with Dustin than anyone else in the party, save Mike, of course. And I guess Max now too, he mused matter-of-factly.

  
After he came out to Max, it took her all of 5 minutes to guess about Mike. She hadn’t asked. Will was in the middle of chowing down on a nugget when she just stated declaratively “you have a crush on Wheeler.” Will had almost choked on his nugget. He hadn’t tried to deny it, he knew Max would have seen right through him immediately. But, a part of him couldn’t bring himself to make it real by saying it aloud. He just grabbed another nugget and kept eating. He knew that Max knew his silence meant confirmation, but at that point, he didn’t care. Max wouldn’t tell Mike anyway. The two of them didn’t have the kind of relationship where they talked non-combatively.

  
Releasing the embrace with his friend, Will turned towards the party, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “I told you this would happen,” he said, trying not to make his tone as smug as his words entailed. Max rolled her eyes. “Oh, whatever,” she sighed dramatically. “It could’ve been worse,” she stepped over the sign and moved closer towards Dustin and Will. The left side of the sign fell down to the floor. Max gestured to Will as she continued. “He thought you were going to bring the bat.”

  
“I should’ve brought the bat,” Dustin said, parroting Max’s dramatic sigh and smacking his forehead. Lucas shook his head, still rubbing his now bloodshot eyes.  
“Please do not bring the bat,” he shuddered. “This already hurts enough.” Dustin scoffed.

“You’ve been thrown against a bus Sinclair,” he shot back. “Walk it off.”

  
Will smiled. He had missed Dustin. He had missed all that came with Dustin being there. Dustin talking, all the time, was annoying, but it could at least help him get his mind off-

  
“Good to see ya Dustin.” Will had forgotten Mike was actually there. He and El, who had still been holding off the right side of the sign, let it fall to the carpet, and walked over to where the rest of the party were standing.

  
“Yeah,” Dustin said, giving Mike a hug, and El a knowing nod. “Good to see you too Mileven.” Will winced at the relationship name Dustin had started using for those two. He wasn’t used to him and Mike not being a unit. Ever since that day at the swings, it had always been _WillandMike_ or _MikeandWill_. That was how the party functioned. Units all jumbled together in an organized mess. Will just didn’t know who he was supposed to be paired up with anymore.

  
“I thought you guys all had stuff to do today,” Dustin said, phrasing his question as a statement as he often did. Steve had mentioned that it made him sound smart. Max thought it made him sound pretentious.

  
“We lied, dumbass.” Max said nonchalantly. Will forgot how brutally honest his friend could be sometimes.

  
“We were going to meet you at the bus stop,” Will hurriedly continued. “But Max pitched this idea and the party voted to do it.” Dustin put his hands up in resignation.

  
“Well, ya got me.” he said.

  
The party all sat down together on the olive green carpet and began asking Dustin questions about Camp Know Where. Dustin would answer each question honestly, even the joke ones Max and Lucas hurled his way, and he countered each question he was asked about camp with one of his own about what had happened since he had left.

  
“I heard a Scoops Ahoy opened in Starcourt,” Dustin said, munching on some tortilla chips that Lucas had grabbed from the kitchen. Max grabbed the giant bag from Dustin’s hand and jammed a whole handful of chips into her mouth.  
“Yeah,” Will could make out her saying, the words were garbled by the crunch of old tortillas. “Steve is working there.”

  
Dustin perked up at that news. “We should go to Starcourt tomorrow,” Dustin said excitedly. Will sighed. They had already spent so much time at Starcourt in the brief time they had all spent together that summer.

“Shouldn’t we do something different for once?” Will asked, somewhat timidly. 10 eyeballs all wheeled onto Will, demanding an answer for his blasphemous words. Will was immediately on the defensive.  
“I mean,” he said, somewhat flustered. “When was the last time we went to the arcade?” He asked the group. “Or ran a campaign?”

“No one wants to play DnD Will,” Mike said coolly. It was the first thing he had said to anyone except for El since they had all sat down.

“W-we don’t have to,” Will managed to stutter out. He was shaken by Mike’s cold tone. Mike had never used that tone with Will, and it scared him. “It’s just, I’m kinda sick of Starcourt. That place creeps me out sometimes.” Mike rolled his eyes.

“We can’t all plan around your delicate sensibilities Will,” he retorted, his tone graduating from cold to hostile. Will was stunned. He wasn’t ready for Mike to talk to him like that.

“What?” managed to stumble out of Will’s slack-jawed expression. Everyone was looking back and forth from Mike, to Will, and back to Mike again, waiting to see who would trip the fuse of the conversation first.  
Mike plowed forward, tripping every fuse possible.

“We’re not kids anymore Will. What’d you think we were just going to sit in my basement and play games all day? We have to grow up, and move on. I’m sorry that you got scared in the Upside Down two years ago, but you’re fine now, you made it out. And you need to get the hell over yourself and stop fucking everything up with your bullshit!”

  
The party sat in stunned silence. Will began to choke up a little. Tears began to well up in his eyes. He suddenly got up, ran to the door, and ran for his bike. “Will!” Max called after him. But Will was gone, already pedaling down the long winding road to his house on the outskirts of Hawkins and into the rainstorm that had started up since they sat down.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Max started after Will, storming to the front of Dustin’s house. She was about to run off after him, when Lucas came up behind her. She turned around to face him. “What?” she snapped at him. Lucas looked at her nervously. He put his arm on her right shoulder.

“Give him a minute,” he whispered to her. “It’s gonna take him a minute to, process, what Mike said to him.”

Max thought for a second, looking for all the world like she was about to sprint off after Will, fueled only by the rage apparent on her flushed cheeks. Lucas stood apprehensively behind her, awaiting the firestorm that was no doubt on the horizon. Finally, Max let out a guttural sigh so loud, the house nearly shook. She stormed back into the living room. Dustin’s mouth remained agape as he stared back and forth from Max, to Mike, who seemed completely unfazed by what had just transpired. She waltzed up to the far side of the room where Mike was sitting, just in front of a faded maroon loveseat, positioned just under the window, knelt down until she was at his eye level, and slapped him across the right side of his face.

  
El’s eyes flared up, and shot daggers at Max, but she gave El a look that made her stand down. Mike had recovered from his slappening and, holding one hand gingerly to his face, stared up at Max dejectedly, and sneered at her. “The fuck was that for?” he asked. Max rolled her eyes at the lanky 14-year-old. “You just yelled at your best friend for being a little nervous around a mall after being trapped for a week with a horrible monster, and then possessed by another monster,” She yelled at him. “So you tell me what the fuck that was for.”

  
Mike stared blankly back up at Max, who was now standing over the remaining members of the party. Lucas had remained at the door. Dustin’s mouth grew wider and wider with each passing second. El had moved up on the couch now, eyes widened, observing the confrontation between Max and Mike, who could barely manage to stutter out a sentence as he stood up. “i-I didn’t mean it,” he stammered. “He knows, I didn’t mean it, right?”

Max got angrier and angrier. Will had trusted her yesterday with, well everything. She wasn’t going to let him down, she couldn’t. “That’s probably why,” she began, sarcasm dripping off her words. “He stormed out of here, almost crying, and went home, right?”

  
Mike looked flabbergasted, and ashamed. He tried again to interject, but max cut him off before he could even start. “You need to get your head out of your ass, Wheeler. I get that you’re living your happy ending, but he needs you. He thinks you’re trying to abandon him. Can’t say I don’t see it.”

  
Mike stood there for a second, trying desperately to remember a time since the Snow Ball when he and Will were together, but all he managed to conjure up, was El. The New Year’s fireworks, he and El were snuggled up next together, on the swing on the Wheeler’s back porch while Will was asleep at home. He and El had crashed Billy’s sports car that Max had given them the keys to. He and El had gone swimming when the pool was still 4 weeks from opening. He hadn’t had a time before when his best memories didn’t involve the short, brown haired boy. He felt like a part of his soul had been ripped out from him, and he hadn’t even realized it was missing. He had just stayed in his fantasy with El while his best friend drifted further and further out to sea.  
He had to go. He needed to go find Will. He needed to apologize, not just for what he had said, but for so jealously guarding his memories. He wished he could share all those memories, all those feelings, with Will. The cool water on their glistening shoulders as they laughed and splashed about in the darkened swimming pool. The swell of dread in their stomachs as they careened into the trees, and then the waves of relief when they looked across the console to see that the other was okay. The warmth of his body mixing with Mike’s own, and the butterflies in his stomach as the fireworks blazed in the background, backlighting the two of them as they leaned into each other-

  
Mike stopped himself there. He couldn’t put Will in that memory, couldn’t think of him that way. He wasn’t a faggot. He wasn’t. He wasn’t. Mike finally broke out of his silent contemplation. Max could’ve sworn tears were beginning to form in his eyes. He croaked out, hoarsely, “I didn’t mean to.” Max would never understand what Will saw in that boy. He was kinda cute, maybe. But he was a total dick. _Stockholm Syndrome is a bitch_ , she mused to herself, matter-of-factly.

Aloud, she continued, “Well you did. He talked to me about it the other day. It’s destroying him. You need to go talk to him. Right now.”

  
Mike nodded. He turned to El, who had retreated to the loveseat. “I’ll call you tonight,” he whispered to his girlfriend. He hurried out from the still thrown-open front door of Dustin’s house, ran around to the back where the party had stashed their bikes, hurried back in front of the house, and began to ride off in the direction Will had left only a few minutes ago. He pictured Will’s distraught expression as he ran out of the house, and knew that he had made that happen. It was all his fault. He pedaled faster. He needed to make it right. He needed to see Will.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Sam hadn’t expected Will to be home. The older boy had heard Will mention he and the party were planning on playing some sort of prank on their friend, Dustin he wanted to say, over the phone last night. Sam had called under the pretext of asking about art class next year, but Sam just wanted to hear his voice again. He didn’t know specifically what it was about the scrawny, recently 14-year-old, soon to be freshman that made Sam fall head over heels in love. He had a rotation in his mind, a daily one, of all the things he loved about Will Byers. Today, it was his smile that Sam thought about. The toothless smirk that eventually blossoms into a robust wide-toothed grin that exudes waves of joy that made it so you couldn’t do anything but smile right back.  
He didn’t expect Will to be home until late, which was just as well too. He didn’t want to see Will’s reaction when he read the letter hidden in the dashboard of his father’s car, which Sam had taken to “borrowing” since his 15th birthday had come and gone last October. He looked down again at the tiny piece of paper Will had given him “in case of emergencies” at the end of the school year. Crammed between half-finished sketches and pizza stains, was Will Byers’ address. Sam was on the right street. He kept following the narrow road, lined on both sides by thick forest, not dissimilar to a long highway or city underpass. Doubt clouded his mind for a second. He thought, maybe he should just turn around, abandon this foolishness and burn the letter. Just, carry on in this awkward silence they had been in since they each realized the other was queer. Well, it was awkward for Sam.

  
Sam knew he had no real chance with Will. The kid wasn’t even out to his closest friends. And besides, he knew he had eyes for someone else. Wheeler, Sam thought dejectedly. He could get, physically at least, why Will really liked him. Tall, lanky, dark curly hair, bright pink lips, and a good ass. Most of them were not really Sam’s type, but he had to admit, they did make for an attractive combination. But some of the things Mike had said to Sam, well, there was a reason he wanted to punch him in his stupid frog face whenever he saw it.

  
But the way Will talked about him. The forlorn look in his eyes, the wistful tone of his voice. The way he could somehow remember the most insignificant of details, like the color of the shirt Mike was wearing during the Snow Ball, or which math problems he had gotten wrong on the last quiz. Sam recognized all the signs, and he knew he didn’t stand a fucking chance. But, he still couldn’t continue on in this kind of fugue state. Halfway to happy, he could almost taste it, but he had been too scared to reach out and grab it. He couldn’t live like that anymore. That’s why he was here.

  
He finally pulled up to the old, rickety, single floor bungalow that was the Byers’ home. It was then that Sam noticed a bike haphazardly discarded on the front lawn. The door was flung open, and Sam could’ve sworn he could hear distant sobbing coming from inside. Sam grabbed the letter, hurriedly stuffing it inside the handbag he had stolen from one of the high-end department stores at Starcourt. He raced up the rickety old stairs, each one creaking as his weight came off of it. “Will?” He shouted as he burst into the house. He received no response, save for continued sobbing. It was definitely Will crying. The tone was high-pitched, but full throated. Sam could recognize it across continents. _Why was Will crying?_ he wondered. He didn’t expect Will to be home this early, he thought he’d still be at his friend’s house. _What had made him leave?_

  
Following the sounds of his crying, Sam eventually found Will, his face buried in a pillow. He was crouched over his bed, shaking violently, crying buckets, and sweating profusely. _He left in a hurry,_ Sam thought. He knelt down next to the younger boy, and tapped Will on his brown-haired head. “Hey man,” Sam whispered in a gentle tone. Will turned around. His face was contorted with pain. His nose was running and his eyes were rubbed raw and red. “What are you doing here?” shakily stumbled out of Will’s throat. The words were broken and uneven. Like a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together right anymore.

  
“Tell you in a minute,” Sam replied, still in the hushed and gentle tone he started in. “What’s wrong, Will?”

  
Will wiped the tears away from his face, took a deep breath, and began to recount what had happened. He told Sam about going to Starcourt, and coming out to Max. Sam knew Max. She was the other new kid from out of state, so Sam felt a kindred suffering with her, despite the fact she had fared much better than he had. He congratulated Will on (finally) actually talking to someone. Then he talked about scaring Dustin, and Mike’s subsequent outburst. Sam rolled his eyes. Of course it was Michael Wheeler. That kid had his head so far up his girlfriend’s ass, Sam was worried he might rip her in two.

  
“So,” Will said after finishing his stories, his tears beginning to dry on his rosy cheeks. “Explain yourself.” Sam looked at Will, slightly confused.

“Whaddya mean?” he asked.

“You never said why you were here.” Will replied, curiously. Sam had forgotten all about the letter, he was so consumed with what had happened to Will that it had slipped his mind. But now it was at the forefront of his mind, as he pulled the letter out from its hiding place in his stolen leather handbag. The letter lay inside a large green envelope, with gold lettering on the front face that read simply, Will. Sam handed Will the letter slowly. As Will began to take the letter, Sam stopped him for a moment. Will looked back at him, slightly puzzled.

“Just,” Sam began, now beginning to break into a nervous sweat. “Please don’t be too harsh.” Will looked more puzzled now, but he still pushed forward, using his fingernail to slowly and deliberately break the seal on the envelope, and unfold the letter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I left you guys on a cliffhanger again, I promise it won't happen again (Probably, we'll see ;). As always, all feedback is greatly appreciated, the next chapter should be out by the end of the month.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will reads Sam's letter and comes to an important realization. Mike tries his best to apologize for what he has done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! Fortunately, we just had a break from school, so I had some time to write. I'm not sure when the next chapter will go up, hopefully before Christmas, but it's shaping up to be the longest chapter so far, and I'm not even close to being done writing it, let alone typing it. Please be patient with me, I have a lot going on right now. All feedback is greatly appreciated as always. Now, sit back, relax, and enjoy this garbage!

Chapter Three

The first thing Will noticed about the letter was the handwriting. It hadn’t occurred to him until then, but Will had never actually seen Sam write anything, only draw. It was as if his handwriting was a jealously guarded secret. The letters were positioned close to each other, little to no leading at all, and they were tall. Each letter took up a minuscule amount of page width, they were stick-skinny. Will thought that one line in this letter would end up the length of a whole paragraph if he wrote it all out himself.  
He began reading from the top of the page:

  
_June 29th_ ,

  
He just wrote this last night, Will noted. He remembered back to the call Sam had made to him last night. Had he written this before they talked, or after?

  
_Will,_  
_There’s no simple or easy way for me to put this, so I’m just going to say it. I like you._

  
Will sat there, reeling for a moment, reading and rereading that line over and over again. Sam likes me, he thought. Me. He hadn’t even considered that anybody could like him. He was just the scrawny kid that everyone thought died a couple of years ago. He wasn’t attractive. He didn't think he was smart, or funny, or talented, or any other quality someone could find value in. He was worthless, dead weight. And yet, here it was. Proof in writing. Someone liked him.

  
_Wow, that was harder than I thought it would be._

  
Sam was never at a loss for words, Will knew. He could ramble for hours and hours about the most minute detail or the most mundane topic, and still, he’d have more to say. He could articulate how he felt or wanted you to think he felt, at any time, anywhere. Will had listened to many of Sam’s ramblings before, never sure exactly why he felt like paying such close attention to all the details. Sam’s tongue-tiedness was something Will neither expected nor knew how to feel about.

  
_I think I’ve liked you since the semester started, but I didn’t put it together until I figured out you were queer too (I figured it out way before the whole thing with Troy, by the way, you set off so many gaydar alarms that it’s absurd)._

  
Will’s confusion continued to mount. If Sam knew Will was gay, why didn’t he ask him out? He knew the answer as soon as he thought up the question. He liked Sam, a lot. And under most other circumstances, they’d have gotten together by now, almost assuredly. But, these were not most circumstances, and Sam wasn’t, well…

  
_I never told you because I was afraid._

  
Afraid of what?

  
_I didn’t want to hear you say no. I thought you might like me too, somewhere deep down (personally I think we’d make a great team, but I’m a little biased) but, I know it’s not enough. I know you don’t like me because you can’t. I’m not Mike._

Will thought for a time that felt like an eternity about those words. He told himself, he wouldn’t have just rejected Sam out of hand, but he knew that he was just telling himself that, and he also knew that he wasn’t sure himself.  
I can’t do that anymore.

  
_Well, duh_. Will thought, with a subconscious chuckle. _I'm reading this letter now, aren't I?_

  
_I like you too much, and this hurts unbearably to keep bottled up. I feel like I’m burning up, inside and out. I know you don’t feel the same way, so I’m not expecting a yes. We can forget all about this if you want to, but for my sake, I have to ask._

  
Will knew this was where this all leading. He’d known since the first lines the conclusion, it was a predictable and inevitable eventuality, and Will didn’t know what he’d say. There was so much swirling around in his mind. He liked Sam, he did. He just didn’t know how to make it work, with, well everything else.

 _You won’t know if you don’t try_ , said a voice in the back of his head. Will had never paid much attention to that voice before, though it hardly ever said anything. But, that voice had gotten more insistent since he’d talked to Max, the yes drowning out the other voices that cried out no.

  
_I want to try. Try dating. Dating you, obviously. It won’t be easy. Hawkins isn’t exactly as progressive as Chicago was, and I got plenty of shit there._

  
Sam had mentioned he lived in Chicago before he came to Hawkins, Will remembered. Now that he was thinking on it, Will realized that among all the ramblings and soliloquies. Sam rarely talked about his own life. He never talked about Chicago, his family, anything before he moved to Hawkins. Will had never pressed on it, but he wanted to now. He wanted to know it all, everything about the tall, thin, brown-haired, blue-eyed boy sitting across from him, waiting with bated breath for his answer.

  
_It won’t be easy, but I’d be willing to try if you were. Either way, I care about you Will, a lot (dammit, I’m crying now while I’m writing this, fuck you)._

  
Will snickered. Sam, who had been staring intently at his shoes, looked up at him, eyes wild. Will quickly retreated back into the letter.

  
_Whether it’s me, or Mike, or someone else down the line, I know you’ll find someone who makes you feel happy. I just want the chance to be that person. Let me know if you’re willing to give me that chance._

  
~~_Love,_ ~~  
~~_Sincerely,_ ~~  
~~_Yours Truly,_ ~~  
_Love,_  
_Sam._

  
Will tried to make out each of the endings Sam had tried and stared at the one he had chosen to go with, taking in all the meaning and feeling behind that single word. He finally put the letter down and stared into the pale blue eyes of the terrified boy sitting across from him. The energy in the room had changed, it was palpable. Will’s earlier concerns with Mike had been all but chased out of his mind. He just looked at Sam, the pretty boy who liked him. The pretty boy who liked him so much that he had to write it down, and was now sitting five feet in front of him, silently dreading his answer.

  
“I-I know it’s a lot to think about,” Sam finally managed to stutter out. His voice was shaking, his cheeks were flushed, and, to Will, he sounded like he was on the verge of crying.

  
“I-if you need time to think about it, I can come back later.” He got up to leave, and something inside Will made him stand up too. He grabbed Sam’s arm, motioning for him to stay. Sam sat back down, bewildered optimism slowly creeping into his chubby cheeks. Will thought for a second, sitting in silence, pondering what to do. Almost everything good that had happened in his life recently, it had happened with Sam there. He would never have come out to anyone in a million years if Sam wasn’t around. He knew, logically, that it couldn’t work. There were just too many variables to consider. So, for the first time in his life, Will didn’t think. He just reached out, put his hand on Sam’s soft, warm cheek, which had gone from being flush with emotion to being as white as a ghost, and pulled his lips into his own.

  
It was a sloppy kiss. An unplanned one, between two parties who didn’t expect to be there a second ago. It was wet, breathless, and warm. But for Will, it was freeing. Bringing Sam’s dark red lips onto his own, tasting him, breathing in all the smells that were so quintessentially Sam (dark chocolate, salty sweat, the mechanical odor of fresh nail polish) Will was hooked. He wanted to hold himself in this moment forever, never let go. He wanted to be here, with Sam forever. Finally, Will pulled away, and he instantly regretted doing so. It felt like the hardest thing he ever had to do, and for Will, that’s really saying something. He gazed back at Sam’s soft, and now thoroughly confused face.

  
“Does that answer your question?” Will asked, a wry smile slowly spreading through his face. Sam was the one crying now. But, it wasn’t ugly. Not tears of pain, no. Tears of wonder and relief were streaming down Sam’s once again rosy red cheeks.  
“You’re serious?” He asked, sounding bewildered. Will moved closer to Sam, closing the five feet that felt like miles between the two of them. He took Sam’s hand in his own. Sam’s hands were much larger than Will’s, it was like trying to hold a sweaty pumpkin in one hand. “I want to try,” Will said slowly, scarcely believing that the words were coming out of his own mouth. Had he really spent so long chasing a golden goose when this wonderful angel was sitting right here, waiting for him this whole time? He really was an idiot. “I think I like you too.”

  
Sam was the one who pulled in this time. He grabbed Will by the collar of his bright orange shirt, and pulled the startled boy into his awaiting lips. Will’s eyes were wide with shock, then closed slowly as he again drank in the taste and all the smells of Sam. He felt a little jolt when his lips had reconnected with Sam’s, as if some part of him that had laid dormant within him was suddenly activated. He ran his hands through Sam’s soft, thin hair, and let Sam pull him closer, absorbing the warmth emanating in waves from Sam’s chest. They floated in that state for a moment, feeling nothing but each other as they slowly swayed back and forth. Still entangled in their embrace, they slowly inched their way onto the old blue bed at the center of Will’s bedroom. Will pulled a blanket over himself as he followed Sam up onto the bed.

  
Sam pulled away from Will to catch his breath, a thin strand of saliva slowly unwinding from their mouths, then breaking a few seconds later. Will looked into Sam’s sparkling blue eyes, and noticed sudden fear quell the sparkles. Will slowly turned to the still ajar bedroom door where Sam’s eyes now directed. Standing in the wooden frame, mouth agape, arms limp at his sides, eyes wide with confusion, was Mike Wheeler.

  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
Mike had no idea what to say to Will. He knew he had to apologize, that was a given. But, he had to make it up to Will somehow, and Mike didn’t know how he could do that. Maybe they could get a campaign going again. Will wasn’t wrong, it had been ages. Dustin would be up for it, Mike knew. Lucas might take a bit more convincing though, but if they all got behind it, Mike was pretty sure he could get him to agree to it. Mike also was trying to reconcile, other things, about Will. He knew he wasn’t gay, he was sure of that. He and El had been going for nearly a year now. But, some nagging part of him remembered El as she was back then.

  
He shook his head violently, attempting to jostle the thoughts from his brain, but he couldn’t. He could never shake Will, that absolutely gorgeous boy from his mind, no matter how much he wanted to. His smirk that would melt into a full-toothed grin; his walnut- colored eyes that sparkled and could absorb more detail looking around a room than anyone could even fathom; his wavy hair that he always kept in a bowl cut that Will despised, but Mike secretly found adorable. When the two of them were younger, years before the new swimming pool opposite Starcourt, they would go swimming near the quarry, where Troy had made Mike jump off. Will would get scared by the fall, even at the lower heights near the lake. Mike would always hold his hand as they jumped in, even past the age where two boys holding hands would raise eyebrows and turn heads. Whenever Will took his hand, Mike felt nervous, but also energized. Like a live current was running into his boy through Will’s fingertips. He’d feel a warm pit of content form at the pit of his stomach as he and Will jumped in together, hand in hand, and he always felt a cold rush of sadness rushing in to quench the warmth whenever Will pulled his hand away from his grip. His mom had always told him he was just afraid of the water, and Mike believed her. But now…

  
Mike shook his head again, trying desperately to get the thought out of his mind. He didn’t need that. He wasn’t like that. He has a girlfriend, whom he really liked. Is it possible to like both? He asked himself. He had never heard of anyone who did. It was always one or the other. All or nothing. He felt like a freak. Like a bloodhound, unable to pick up a scent, incapable of making up its mind. Well, he had made up his mind. He made a choice. He chose El.

  
Mike really liked El. But, something about it, about them, it didn’t feel real. He tried to compensate, physically, at least. But, something felt missing, somehow. He kept trying to do more and more with her, trying so hard to find what it was that wasn’t there, and he loved every second of it. He loved spending time with her, doing all those things. He had a great time, but he couldn’t find it. He wanted to keep looking, keep searching, keep trying to make it work. Because, it was good. But, deep down, a part of him that he wouldn’t listen to for a long time was telling him that’s not what he really wanted. Not really.

  
Mike rolled his bicycle up to the exhausted wooden bungalow that was the Byers’ house. He noticed Will’s bike discarded on the grass on the left side of the house. He also saw a car, a blue Ford with a chrome eagle ornament parked in the driveway that he didn’t recognize, and that the front door was wide open. Moving deliberately, Mike got off his bike, slowly lowering it to the moist earth. He grabbed a large stick from the ground that he deemed sufficiently sharp, and inched his way towards the door. As Mike entered the single floor house, he heard murmurs coming from down the hall. He tiptoed across the floor, treading lightly so as to not cause the old wooden floorboards to creak underfoot. Mike suddenly heard the voices stop. He stood still halfway down the hall, listening intently. He heard very soft moaning coming from Will’s bedroom. As he got closer, he saw the shadow of some writhing mass reflected from Will’s open bedroom. Mike moved more quickly now, urgency coursing through his veins, until he came to the bedroom he had slept in a countless number of times. He stepped into the doorway, ready to clobber whatever monster was making its nest in his best friend’s bed. What he saw made his jaw go slack and the stick that was in his hand clatter to the floor.

  
It wasn’t a monster on Will’s bed, it was Will, tangled in a blanket, with his lips connected to those of _Sam Istlenfeld_. Will’s eyes were closed. He was seemingly unaware of Mike’s unannounced arrival. Sam’s eyes however had grown wide with terror, and he pulled out of the kiss he had been in mere moments ago. Will whispered something to Sam that Mike couldn’t quite hear, although he managed to make out “worry about Mike” before he stopped. Will slowly turned around, and the two best friends made eye contact. For what felt like an eternity the three of them sat together in silence, unwilling to break the tentative truce that was stopping the world from crashing down around their ears.

  
Sam made the first move. He fumbled himself out of the blanket and off Will’s twin bed, grabbed his handbag from the floor, and was nearly out the door before he stopped. “I’ll give you guys the room,” he said, a little shakily. Mike thought he saw tears welling up in Sam’s eyes. “I’ll call you later, Will?” Will nodded, that wry smirk beginning to creep across his face. “I’d like that,” Will replied softly. Sam nodded, then slowly slunk past Mike in the hallway, shooting him a quick glare that said “If you hurt him, the police won’t be able to find your body,” loud and clear to Mike. Mike stood there, waiting until he heard the engine of Sam’s car turn over to say anything. “May I come in?” he finally asked, with an air of formality that felt foreign in this place that was so familiar. Will nodded, and Mike sauntered into the room. He felt strangely uncomfortable as he entered the room, as if Sam had left some sort of presence over the place that left Mike thinking about what he had just seen.

  
Mike sat down at the edge of the bed. Close, but not too close to his now outed best friend. Will tried to speak up first. “Mike,” he started before Mike cut him off. “I shouldn’t have said what I said to you at Dustin’s,” he interrupted over whatever explanation or apology Will was going to try to offer. “I know how much you’ve gone through, but I was frustrated. And I took it out on you when I shouldn’t have. I’m so sorry.” Will was shaking a little, new tears beginning to form at the corners of his eyes. Will was barely able to croak out a “thank you” before Mike plowed ahead. “And, as for you being, well, gay? I don’t care,” he said, mustering all the sincerity in his voice he could. Will began to cry more, tears raining down his cheeks and onto the sheets. “You’re my friend,” Mike continued, beginning to smile a little. “The best one I’ve got. I’m always gonna be here for you, no matter what. I’m sorry if I’ve ever failed at that.”

  
“You mean it?” Will asked, trying to determine the sincerity of his friend’s words. Mike’s smile just widened. He put his hand on Will’s left thigh, holding him tight as if he were a leaf about to blow away in a gust of wind. “I’m happy for you Will,” Mike said, almost in a whisper. “I’m glad you found someone who’s right for you. That’s all that matters.”

  
At those words, Will smiled so wide that Mike thought his face was going to break off. He scooted closer to Mike, and gave his friend a monstrous bear hug. Mike was frozen for a split-second, a bit stunned by the strength of his small friend, then he reciprocated the embrace. The two lay in that embrace for a minute, letting the issues, the sounds, and sights of the world fall away. But, the minute passed, and Will let go, sliding back down to the foot of his twin-size mattress. Mike felt the cold rushing in when Will let go. He tried to pull his mind from his sudden sullenness by asking Will a question that had been tugging at the back of his mind since he had entered through the doorway.

  
“So,” he began slowly. “How long have you and Sam been together?” Will smirked, and chuckled to himself a little, as if finding a secret joke in between the words Mike had just said. “About 20 minutes,” Will said lightly. “He came here to, confess. I guess.” Will reached down to the floor and grabbed a torn piece of green paper that Mike hadn’t noticed before. Will sat back up, and showed him what turned out to be an envelope. Mike could make out Will’s name written in gold ink on the front before Will set it back down on the rugged carpet. “Did he know?” Mike asked softly, almost trying for Will to not hear his question. Will deliberated for a second, then nodded, quickly and shallowly. “Does anyone else know?” Mike asked, hesitantly. Will nodded again. “I told Max yesterday,” he said. While we were at Starcourt. That’s it though.” Mike nodded. He wasn’t sure exactly why he cared about who knew about Will, nor did that information change how he felt about it. He had told Will that it was fine, and it was. So why do I feel like something isn’t right?

  
He had thought he was alone in his feelings. But here, here was proof that he wasn’t the only one who felt that way about guys. He wondered if, perhaps Will liked him too. The likelihood of that was certainly higher now, at any rate. _You’re too late though_ , he heard a voice say to him in his head. That voice, the raspy one at the back of his mind. It was never truly his own. It was cold, uncaring, and harsh. It sounded like Brenner, Troy, and his father all rolled together and jumbled with each other.

  
_You came too late. You missed your chance. What’re you going to do now Wheeler?_ The voice drilled into him, more and more. Mike tried his best to quiet his mind with further questions. “Are you gonna tell the rest of the party?” he asked. Will shook his head. “Soon,” he said, a little mysteriously. “I don’t know if I’m quite ready for it to be all out there, ya know?” Mike nodded. He could understand, more than Will realized at the time. He thought the others would react well enough, but he couldn’t be positive. “My lips are sealed.” Mike responded, miming zippering his lips shut. Will smiled and half halfheartedly swiped at swiped at Mike’s hand, as if to halt the invisible zipper. Mike laughed, and swatted back at his friend. The two began repeatedly swatting at each other. The swatting turned to a full-blown wrestling match, as the two friends fell back onto the bed, limbs writhing and swatting at each other.

  
After a few minutes of vicious combat, Mike tapped on Will’s leg three times to signal his resignation. “Weakling,” Will scolded his fallen combatant, slowly climbing off from on top of Mike, and allowing him to sit up, back against the wall, legs splayed out to the foot at the bed. Will sat next to Mike, leaning his head slightly on the taller boy. A few stray strands of Will’s brown hair blew into Mike’s eyes. His heart skipped a few beats, although he didn’t think Will noticed. Will yawned, and stretched his arms out in front of him as not to accidentally bonk Mike in the nose. “Thank you Mike,” he said sleepily. Mike caught Will’s yawn, then replied. “What for?” he asked Will. “I’ve been kinda an asshole recently.” Will yawned again, speaking through it. “Yeah, you have.” His yawn was finished now. “But you weren’t right now. About something I was worried you might be.”

  
“Did you think I was gonna dump you, after everything?”

  
“I don’t know. I hoped not, but I feared the worst.”

  
“Well, I’m not.”

  
“I’m glad, thank you.”

  
The two quickly changed the subject, chatting aimlessly about a variety of things. Will talked about art class a bit, showing Mike some of the sketches he was working on. Will had started taking high school level art classes early at the beginning of January, and he talked about how Sam had showed up at around the same time he did. Mike recommended a few good hiding spots that he and El had used where Sam and Will could get some alone time. It was nice to talk to Will again. The two had barely spent any time together since Mike’s 14th birthday party last December. Mike hadn’t noticed how much he had missed all of this. It reminded him of talking to El in the early days. Everything was simple, fluid, and forthcoming. He didn’t feel as if he had to hide anything when they talked. A number of times that evening, Mike almost accidentally let slip his secret. If he was going to tell anybody, it would be Will. Will would understand, he was certain now. But, something held him back. He couldn’t verbalize it at that time, but part of him just wasn’t strong enough to make it real with words. That, he knew, Will would understand.

  
After hours of talking, laughing, and just a hint of crying and Atari, Mike looked at his watch. “Shit,” he exclaimed, dropping his controller. Will paused the game and looked up. “What’s the matter?” he asked. Mike sighed. “I’m late for dinner,” he responded, showing Will the wristwatch that spelled his doom. Will winced. “Yikes,” he said apologetically. “I’ll ride back with you if you want?” Mike shook his head. “It’s alright,” he said. “Besides, you’re expecting a call, aren’t you?” he cooed at Will. Will giggled. “Yeah, you’re right.” he chuckled. “I’ll walk you out?” Mike nodded. The pair walked the hallway, Mike pausing to grab the stick he had discarded earlier. Will snickered as Mike picked it up. “What did you think you needed that for?” he asked. Mike shrugged. “In case you were making out with someone I didn’t like,” he replied flatly. Will, knowing Mike was joking, let his comment slide.

  
The two reached the door that both of them forgot had been left open. “Dude,” Mike said. “You’re gonna have so many mosquitoes to kill now.” Will rolled his eyes. “I get it Wheeler,” he sighed, melodramatically. “I live in the middle of nowhere.” Mike laughed. Will attempted to keep his composure for a moment, then he laughed too. “Well,” Mike started once they had caught their breath. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” Will nodded. “Starcourt,” Will replied. “Right?” Mike nodded, a little surprised by Will’s recommendation. “Do you wanna invite Sam along too?” Mike suggested before he even had a chance to think about what he was asking. Will’s face lit up with excitement. “I’ll ask him when he calls later,” he replied jubilantly. Mike nodded. Will offered his hand for Mike to shake. Mike thought for a second, then returned the gesture, shaking the hand of his scrawny best friend. Mike propped up Will’s bike against the porch, then hopped on his own and rode off west into the setting sun.

  
He felt the cold rush in stronger than ever before as he pedaled farther from the old single story bungalow he had known almost all his life. He was glad he spoke to Will, he knew they were closer now than they had been in months. But, as he kept riding, he couldn’t help but feel further away from him than ever before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you enjoyed the chapter. As always, all feedback is welcome. Thank you all so much for sticking with me and for the positive feedback on the first two chapters, you guys are the reason I try my hardest to keep going with this story. I love you all so much. Okay, that's all for now, see you soon (hopefully)!  
> -C


	4. Chapter Four (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is overwhelmed, Will prepares for his first date, Mike feels haunting guilt he can't seem to get rid of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Chrysler everyone!  
> I'm terribly sorry it's been such a long time. I'm working two jobs now, in addition to school and sports, so I've had literally no time to write. I didn't think it was fair to make everyone wait another month or two for me to finish this chapter (because it's long as fuck) so I thought I'd split it up into a couple of smaller parts and release them over the next month or two. So this section is going to be significantly shorter than what I normally post. Again, sorry. Please enjoy part one of Chapter 4!
> 
> TW: Graphic description of self-harm and references to suicide and suicidal thoughts.

Chapter Four

_The Next Morning_

Sam barely slept a wink that night. He had been filled with nervous energy, bouncing between excitement and panic. Will had said _yes_. He still couldn’t believe his luck. Not only had Will said yes, but they were already going out together that day. Sure, it was with the rest of the party, but still. An onlooker may think they were moving a little fast, but Sam didn’t have that thought in his mind. They had been out to each other for a few months at this point, it was almost weird it hadn’t happened sooner. Finally, around 3 AM, Sam had resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to get any sleep that night. He rolled out of bed, turned on his night lamp, and limped over to the illuminable mirror at the other end of his room. Flipping on the switch, the lightbulbs lining the edge of the large rectangular mirror nearly blinded Sam’s nocturnal eyes. Covering his eyes with one hand, Sam used the other to dig around in one of his cabinet drawers, until he found a long, thin black case. He pulled it out of the drawer, and set it down on the smooth wooden desk.

Now adjusted to the brilliant white light, Sam found a chair and sat down in front of the mirror. He opened the case. Inside was a skinny, black brush, and several swatches of color, all of a tone similar to his own skin. Selecting one, sam brought the brush down on the swatch, then over his cheeks. He worked at his face for a while, painting over every blemish and imperfection until his features were a canvass of symmetry. He finally set down the brush after about half an hour, several more cases having been opened, their contents strewn all over the desk. He began replacing the cases in the desk when he noticed a picture that had been hidden by the cases, poking out from a stack of papers and notebooks. Sam picked up the shiny square, inching it out from under the mass. He turned over the polaroid to the side that wasn’t blank. He regretted picking it up almost instantly.

In the photograph, Sam saw himself staring back at him, though he was a little shorter, his hair a little lighter, and he was wearing something the Sam of today would never be caught dead in; a t-shirt and shorts. Hanging off Sam’s right arm was another boy. This boy was shorter than Sam, although not by much. His face was somewhat plump, he had greyish-blue eyes, wavy red hair, and a smile that swallowed Sam’s world whole. Sam looked at the photo for longer than he’d care to admit, then hid it back under the stack from whence it came, and where Sam would have no cause to find it.

Sam sighed and began to roll up the right sleeve of his jacket, tears forming at the edge of his eyes as he did. He lived in that black leather jacket (another poached item, this one from an outlet in Chicago). He hardly ever took it off, not even to sleep. Sam ran his finger down his pale underarm, tracing the faint edges of scars crisscrossing all the way up to his elbow. He could make out 13, though he knew there had been more.

Sam opened up his top right drawer, fumbled around for a second, then pulled out a bag of ink markers. He slowly inched the bag open and pulled out a dark purple marker. He stared at it for a second, then brought the marker to his skin, right over where the least faint of his scars resided. He traced a line, connecting all the scars still visible and some of the ones he knew used to be there. He worked at his arm, starting with the purple, then moving on to a sky blue, an orange, a yellow, a red, and a navy blue. Tears fell from his eyes as he worked, smudging the colors and blending them into a mournful symphony.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sam felt the heat of the sun on the back of his neck. He closed the final marker and returned the bag to its place in the drawer. He looked down at his arm to admire his work. He had drawn a setting sun, shining out across a vast lake. Deep blues contrasting with bright yellows as the sun danced across the horizon. Sam looked back to his alarm clock next to his bed. _7:30,_ it read. He had been working for nearly four hours. He cursed the boy in the photo under his breath. He knew this was better than before, but he still felt weak and defeated. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. He felt the gentle breeze from outside. He took in the smells of air freshener, of the pine trees outside his open window, of his still open makeup cases, absorbing the strange blend of natural pine, lavender, and synthetic paint. He let the drone of cicadas and the dull humming of the lights on his mirror wash over him, and transport him back from the brink where he had been.

He sat there, trudging from the dark, lonely, godforsaken island he had been on back into his bedroom. Finally, he opened his eyes, and he was back in his own skin. He slowly got up and walked to his door. Opening it deliberately, he peered around the door at the room at the end of the hall. The door was flung open, the light was flickering, and the window was haphazardly hanging off the hinges, curtains billowing in the early morning wind. _Still gone then,_ Sam thought, closing his door with the same care, and sitting back down in front of the mirror. _Good._ He grabbed a brush from the top of an already open drawer. He still needed a lot of time before he’d be ready to face Will today.

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Will woke up that morning happier than he had been in years. He had called Sam the night previous to confirm their “date” for today. Will had asked Sam if it was alright if the rest of the party came along with them to throw off suspicion. Will didn’t think he was ready for all the attention that would come from being an out couple. Sam had translated his fears over the phone with his typical elegance (“you don’t wanna get shot by rednecks. Got it, babe”) and had reluctantly relented to allowing the party to tag along.

Will ate breakfast a lot quicker than he normally did; he didn’t work on any drawing that morning. Will’s mind was on other things. He had wolfed down his bland eggs and plain bagel, the lack of flavor unable to quench the fire that had been burning inside Will since yesterday. Will’s mother had noticed the change in his demeanor that morning and had commented on his glowing attitude before rushing out to work. Will had offered some half-assed explanation that he knew neither Joyce nor himself would remember that night.

Forgoing the usual morning drawing left Will with about two hours to prepare. Will walked down the narrow hallway back to his room and opened the chipped white closed door opposite the bed he had slept in since kindergarten. Even now, almost a decade later, Will was still too short for the old twin bed. The sheets were pulled taut over all four corners of the bed. Will had made sure his room looked spotless; he and Sam had knocked more than a few things out of place while they were fooling around the day before. Mike had offered to help him tidy up before he left, but Will had declined his offer. He enjoyed their talk last night, but he still wasn’t sure where they stood. They were still friends, that was for sure. And, maybe that’s all they needed to be. Sam’s letter had brought from the fringes all these feelings Will didn’t even know he had. Mike seemed like a distant memory now, a flight of fancy that was never really there. But Sam, he was there. He was real, and the thought of that set little butterflies loose in his stomach.

Will opened his closet and took a look around. His mind was suddenly overwhelmed by choices. What shirt should he wear? Should he keep it to a super casual t-shirt, or wear a more formal button-up? Should he wear jeans, normal shorts, or the shorter athletic ones his mom had insisted on buying him to try to get him to take up running. Should he wear bright colors, or stick to a safer muted palette? Will’s mind was swamped with fashion disasters and nightmare scenarios. The options swallowed Will, and he slammed the closet door shut. He ran down the hall to the living room and grabbed the phone off the cracking wall. Hands trembling, he hastily dialed the number. The phone rang once, twice, three times, each ring like a knife twisting deeper into his heart as his panic worsened. Finally, a voice picked up on the other end. A female voice, worry apparent in her voice as she called his name. “Max,” Will gasped, “I need your help. Can you come?”

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Mike left the house late. He had slept through his 9 AM alarm and didn’t wake up until about 15 minutes before he had to leave for Starcourt. He had lazily drifted awake after a dreamless sleep, noticed the errant time on his alarm clock, and bolted out of bed, the post-rise haze that normally clouds the mind now forgotten as the great motivator of urgency chased it from him. He showered briefly, in and out within 5 minutes, combed the rather messy weed that people said was his hair, and threw on the first outfit at the top of his drawer, a pale yellow shirt with white and orange stripes running down the front, and a pair of short athletic shorts his track coach had made him purchase for meets. He had run down the carpeted steps, absentmindedly greeting his mother, who was watching TV with his little sister Holly. He grabbed a piece of toast from the kitchen that had been left out for him. Lazily gnawing on the corner of the bread, Mike grabbed his backpack from the living room, filled to the brim with DND books and notebooks. He still felt bad about shooting down Will yesterday and figured the two of them could start working on a new campaign today. Of course, Sam was going to be there too. Which was fine. Totally. Totally fine.

Mike threw his loose-fitting backpack over his shoulder, grabbed his bike from the garage, and hit the road, riding down the hill leading into downtown Hawkins. Mike had repainted his bike a couple of days ago, and the royal blue frame shone brightly in the mid-morning sunlight. The pedals had creaked and squeaked last November, but now they glided along noiselessly. Mike rode high above the ground, 4-5 inches above the already high seat. He flew down the road, effortlessly navigating the roads that gradually filled up with more and more cars as he approached downtown. He rode past the boarded-up windows of pawn shops, corner stores, and local restaurants that had all closed their doors in recent months. Business owners from Hawkins, as well as neighboring towns, had been protesting outside City Hall for almost a year, ever since the plans to build Starcourt had become public knowledge. They were out again today, crowded outside City Hall with their colorful signs. Mike’s father had dismissed the protesters (“nothing but a bunch of socialist whiners”) but Mike knew some of them. Peter from the bookstore. Jack, the local butcher. Cassandra, Ms. Byers’ boss. They were all there, and they were all hurting. Mike didn’t understand how his father could dismiss all that, but then again he didn’t understand a lot of what his father said and did.

Mike finally came upon the front of Starcourt Mall. The pristine building gleamed in the late morning sunlight. Mike landed his bike in the expansive paved parking lot, locked his front wheel to the nearest lamppost, and set off through the revolving doors in search of the party. The mall was packed that Monday mid-morning. The line at Scoops Ahoy was already miles long. Waiting in that line, Mike spotted the telltale pigtails of Erica, Lucas’ 12-year-old sister, a large red Macy’s bag dangling from her arm barely above the tile floor. Little cliques formed around the fountain spewing water at the center of the mall, alternating flashes of red, white, and blue light illuminating the rushing water from its underbelly. These cliques Mike knew well, he could spot them at any distance. Mike wandered around the mall for a few minutes, searching aimlessly for his friends like a chicken whose head had been cut off. The crowds of people moved in long lines, almost like misshapen walls, ensnaring Mike in a labyrinth from which he did not know how to escape.

Finally, after minutes that felt like days, Mike heard a holler from behind his head. He turned around and spotted the curly mane of Dustin. He was grinning from ear to ear. Mike made his way through the labyrinth, toppling walls when necessary until he found where Dustin and the others were sitting. Mike greeted them all with a smile and El with a kiss. Dustin grimaced jokingly. Lucas playfully poked him in the side. “You seriously need to get a girlfriend dude,” he said, smirking a little. “Yeah,” Dustin sighed resignedly. “I know.”

Mike rolled his eyes and took El’s hand. Mike felt a pit of guilt begin to form at the bottom of his stomach. He pushed it down and turned to face the rest of the group. “Anyone know when Will’s gonna get here?” he asked, a bit more earnestly than he would’ve intended, though if anyone in the party noticed the inflection, they opted not to comment on it. 

“Max called me,” Lucas replied. “Said Will asked her to help him get ready.” Lucas shrugged, shaking his head. “I asked her ‘ready for what?’ but she wouldn’t tell me.” He threw his hands up in exaggerated exasperation. Mike shrugged along with him, but he knew exactly what Will was getting ready for. He craned his neck, searching about the mall for any sign of the three he knew were coming. The pit of guilt he has pushed down earlier now blew up, its inflation fueled by bitter jealousy. Will never needed to “get ready” for the rest of them. And he had asked Max to help him. _Max._ Out of all of them, Max was the one he asked.

El squeezed Mike’s hand and brought his eyes back down. “You okay?” she asked him slowly. Her language skills had improved by leaps and bounds ever since Ms. Byers started to teach her instead of Hopper. However, she still spoke slowly as to not mince words, and was often brief and to the point.

Mike nodded and kissed her on the cheek, though he knew it was a lie. He looked back up towards the entrance of the mall, scanning the crowd for Will’s distinct bowl cut. His eyes finally landed on Will, Max, and Sam who had just come through the revolving door. He tried to call to them, but the chatter in the mall prevented them from hearing. As they started getting closer, Mike could better make the three of them out. Max was sporting what appeared to be her trademarked look (ripped jeans and a patterned sweater) although she seemed to Mike to be a little more made-up than she usually was. Sam was clad in all black wearing a leather jacket even though it was nearly 90 degrees outside, and pants decorated with what Mike considered copious amounts of colored patches, buttons, and designs. His hair was slicked back, and he was wearing black lipstick. Smiling on his left shoulder, but trying not to appear on his shoulder, was Will. Mike had hardly recognized him when the three of them walked in. But when he did, his heart skipped three beats, and the pit swelled to an even more enormous size. _Oh fuck,_ was the only thought that entered Mike’s brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, cliffhangers suck. They're such a drag when they don't need to be. Why writers use them I will never understand.  
> Thanks for reading this first part of chapter 4 (and the rest of the story so far for that matter). The next part will be out (eventually). I'm not gonna give y'all a timetable that I can't meet, but I will let everyone know as soon as a new part gets posted. Thanks so much for the positive feedback, I love and appreciate y'all so much. Have a great holiday season, see you in the new year!  
> -C


	5. Chapter Four (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max, Will, and Sam meet up with the rest of the party. Steve and Robin appear. Mike continues to be an angsty little bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GRAVITY FALLS IT IS GOOD TO BE BACK!!!
> 
> Okay but seriously, I'm so happy to be writing again. My life got in the way hard the last five months, so I've had basically no free time to work on writing. However, this quirky little Coronavirus thing (perhaps you've heard of it) has made it so my life doesn't really exist anymore. So now I have way too much free time on my hands, and that means I can work on this fic again! 
> 
> AP testing ended last week, so I'll be able to post full-length chapters again starting soon (I'm not giving y'all an update schedule because I'll probably not live up to it, so just expect chapters to randomly drop in with no rhyme or reason as to when they appear).
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the end of chapter four, sorry that it's short but I wanted to get an update to the story out ASAP.

Chapter Four (Part Two)

_Twenty Minutes Earlier_

“Do you think I look alright?” Will asked as he and Max hopped off their bike and board at the back of the mall. Max didn’t question why he wanted to come back here first; she had done some weird shit on her first date with Lucas that past winter. Max looked at Will, almost disappointedly. “C’mon Byers,” she chided. “You really think I’d let you leave the house looking anything less than perfect?” Will snickered, but worry still darkened his eyes. Max put her arm around his shoulder. “Seriously Will,” she said in the most serious and sincere tone she could muster. “You look amazing. Sam’s gonna love it.” Will smiled shyly and whispered a ‘thank you.’ 

The two walk around to the front of the mall, searching for the boy that was making Will’s body visibly shake from nerves. “Stop the fucking presses.” Max heard from behind them. Both her and Will turn around, looking for the disembodied voice that had called them. Max saw Sam first. His jacket and makeup made him easy to spot, even in as big a crowd as there was outside the mall. Will was dumbstruck. His mouth hung agape, and Max could see his cheeks reddening more than the blush she had used on him made him look. Sam came up to the two of them, and they all stood there, staring at each other in awkward silence as if waiting for someone to give the rest permission to speak.

Max broke the awkward silence. “Is that mascara?” she asked Sam curiously. “Yeah,” he replied gaily, seeming incredibly happy that anyone had actually noticed him. “Some lady just came up to me one time at a coffee shop and said I’d look good with it on, so…” Max and Will nodded knowingly. 

“S-should we get going?” Will asked, tripping over his words as they stumbled out. Sam smiled warmly, answering by extending his hand to Will. Will’s breath was rapid and shaky. He glanced over towards Max as if he was asking permission to proceed. Max rolled her eyes at him in an obvious statement of “get the hell over yourself and take his fucking hand, you helpless idiot.”

Will looked back and forth from Sam to Max and back to Sam again. Finally, he took a deep breath out, and tentatively took Sam’s hand. Sam smiled and ruffled Will’s bowl cut. “Dork,” he joked. Will giggled, Max rolled her eyes, and the three walked together through the large glass doors and into the mall. The white noise of chatter permeating the halls of the mall muted their voices, though the hustle and bustle of the day made it so few noticed their intertwined fingers. Sam, the tallest of the three, craned his neck, searching around for where the rest of the group would be. After a minute, he spotted Mike’s trademarked straight, almost blocky black hair, and pointed out where he was to the others. The three set off in that direction, moving more swiftly than before. As they approached the party, Will pulled his hand away from Sam’s, a twinge of guilt pulling at his heart as he did so. Max was leading the group and motioned for them all to be quiet, intending to sneak up behind the other four. At least, that was the plan until a figure jumped out of the crowd and lunged at Max. The three fell to the ground, their screams muffled by the noise of the crowd.

“I swear to god, Stalker,” Max shouted. Dustin grinned, triumphantly offering Max his hand. She swatted it away before jumping back up. Will and Sam got up too and Dustin walked the three back to where Mike, Lucas, and El were standing. They all greeted each other warmly, Lucas and Max with a kiss, Mike and Will with a hug, El and Sam with a stare-off. _Those two are gonna love each other,_ Will thought, snickering to himself at the thought.

“Everyone,” Will started timidly. “This is Sam.”

“The famous Sam-from-art-class,” Lucas mused, approaching Sam with a little bow before shaking his hand. Max bonked him on the back of his head playfully. “Nice to meet you guys,” Sam said, giving a mock courtesy. “Will’s told me so much about this group. “

“So Wheeler,” Max started, turning to face Mike, who’s cheeks Will could’ve sworn were more flush than they normally were. Mike didn’t answer, instead pointing to the matinee at the mall’s theater, _Starcourt Motion._ “Follow me.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You are zero for, six,” Robin Buckley said, drawing a big number six on the small whiteboard she was holding. Steve Harrington didn’t look back at her, instead staring wistfully at a group of girls that were walking away from the Scoops Ahoy counter, giggling amongst themselves.

“It’s this stupid hat,” Steve muttered, angrily tearing off the small white sailor’s cap emblazoned with the ridiculous company logo. “It’s squandering my best feature.” Robin rolled her eyes from behind the back window. “Yeah,” she responded sarcastically. “Company policy is a real drag.” Steve turned to the window, greeted by the whiteboard reading “You Rule: 0; You Suck: 6.” He scoffed. “Lesbians don’t know everything, you know,” he said, smirking. “Uh, yes we do,” Robin replied with exaggerated smugness. “It’s part of the deal.”

“I’m going in for my break,” Steve said, leaving his hat on the counter. “Tag in Buckley.” Robin rolled her eyes again, then ducked behind the counter, walked out the door behind the counter, and handed Steve the key. “Let me show you how it’s done, Harrington,” she said, a wry smile creeping across her face. Steve threw his hands up in exasperation. “Be my guest.”

Robin took Steve’s place behind the counter, adjusting the tiny sailor’s hat atop her brown hair. She looked out across the mall, watching all the shoppers walk by. Her eyes made their way to the group of girls that Steve had tried and failed to woo. She got why he was disappointed. They were very pretty. Robin had half a mind to leave her post and chase after them herself. She elected to stay there, drowsily staring off into the distance until every once in a while a customer would come by, asking for a scoop. She didn’t mind the job; money was money after all. But it could be a real drag sometimes, especially when the kids came by.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Robin saw the kids approaching the booth. _Oh great this again,_ she thought. “Steve’s on a break right now,” she said when they had made it to the counter. “He’s not available.” One of the kids pushed his way to the front. Robin didn’t remember seeing him before. He had excessively curly brown hair which was kept under a yellow and green cap. He had very prominent braces, and when he spoke it was with a heavy lisp. “Tell him I’m back,” the kid said. Robin stared at him, confusion covering her face. “Who’s back? Who the hell are you?” She asked incredulously. Suddenly she heard quick footsteps from behind her. She turned around just in time to see Steve burst through the backroom door, elation buzzing off him like electricity. “Henderson!” Steve shouted, a wide smile highlighting his face. The kid’s face broke into a similar wide-toothed grin, his and Steve’s excited laughter rang together in a chorus of celebration. “He’s back!” Steve climbed over the counter and gave Dustin a strong bear hug which quickly devolved into a ridiculous handshake that melted into what appeared to be a mimed swordfight ending with Steve spilling his intangible guts all over the mall’s white floors. Some passers-by turned their heads to stare at the spectacle playing out right in front of Robin’s eyes.

“How many children are you friends with?” She asked. Steve’s face fell slightly, his emotions dragged back down to reality. “This is Robin,” he said, panting somewhat as he pointed at her. “My relentlessly cheery coworker.” Dustin smiled at Robin, tipping his hat in her direction. “Pleasure to meet you, m’lady,” in a voice that reminded Robin of a Shakespeare play.

“Great,” she said tentatively, walking backward into the break room and slamming the door. Dustin noticed Steve’s face falling more. “So,” Steve started, turning back to face the rest of the party. “What can I do for you guys?” Mike stepped forward and gestured his head towards the theater. Annoyance replaced the jubilation that had just a minute ago been on Steve’s face. “Again,” he groaned. “Seriously?”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The party slid quietly into the darkened theater, hugging the wall by the steps until they found the back row. Mike sat with El on the far end, Will and Sam ended up on the other end. Dustin had left for camp before _The_ _Goonies_ had come out, so while the three couples whispered to each other, Dustin’s eyes were glued to the screen. Mike didn’t talk much though. Curled up next to El, his mind would wander from what she was saying and his eyes kept drifting towards Will at the other end of the row. Each time he’d notice this and bring his eyes back to the screen, but inevitably his eyes would wander again. After a while, El noticed something was up. “You okay?” She whispered, looking up at him. Mike nodded. “You sure?” She continued. Mike nodded again. He knew she knew he was lying. He didn’t like lying to her, but he wasn’t sure how to explain what was going on, hell he didn’t quite know himself. Besides, he couldn’t focus on lying now. He couldn’t focus on anything except Will and Sam’s muted giggling at the other end. _Who the hell does he think he is?_ Mike thought, anger beginning to heat up inside him. _He just shows up out of nowhere in the middle of the school year, and suddenly he’s dating Will? What gives him the right?_

Mike’s anger simmered for the duration of the movie and only got worse once they got out of the theater. Max wanted to go shopping and El decided to tag along. Will wanted to show Sam around Starcourt as apparently Sam had never been to the place. Mike didn’t buy it; he thought they just wanted an excuse to be alone. Dustin went back to Scoops to catch up properly with Steve. That left Lucas and Mike sitting alone by the fountain in the center of the mall, waiting for their girlfriends to get back from _Marshall Fields._

After a couple of minutes of awkward silence, Lucas spoke up. “Sam seems pretty neat, huh?” He asked absentmindedly. “Yeah,” Mike responded despondently, not looking up from the floor. “I guess.” Lucas looked back at him dejectedly. “What’s your problem this time.” That got Mike’s eyes off the floor. He stood up, angry eyes trained on Lucas. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He snapped at Lucas. Lucas rolled his eyes before standing up and continuing. “You always do this whenever someone new joins the group,” he started, frustration evident in his tone. “You did it with Max and you’re doing it now with Sam. Neither of them did anything wrong so I ask again, what is your fucking problem?” Mike got closer to Lucas, towering over the shorter boy. “Why is it so important that everyone likes your girlfriend?”

“Why is it so important everything stays just how you like it?”

“It’s not about me-”

“It always is with you!”

-”WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?”

The two boys turned around to see Max storming towards them, El following close behind carrying a worrying amount of bags in her arms. Before Mike could react, Max had grabbed him by the arm and was dragging him off into the corner of the mall.

“Okay,” she started once they had reached a tiny nook at the west edge of the mall, hands on her hips. “Explain yourself.” Mike looked insulted. “Why do you immediately assume it’s my fault?” He asked indignantly. Max scoffed. “It’s always your fault,” she replied sharply. “Now, explain.”

Mike looked down at his feet sheepishly, took a deep breath, and began. “It’s Sam,” he said in a tepid voice, still staring at his feet. “There’s something that, I don’t know.” Mike’s eyes stayed trained on the floor, but he could feel Max’s glare burning into him. “You,” she snarled at him. “Are unbelievable.” Mike finally looked back up from the floor. Max might’ve looked the angriest he had ever seen her look. “Why can’t you just for once-” She stopped herself and took a deep breath. The anger melted away, replaced by a haze of exhaustion. “You know what? Forget it.” She started walking back towards the fountain. Mike was confused. He turned around and shouted for her. “That’s it?” Max wheeled back around to face him, a resigned look on her face. “What else do you want me to say?” She asked, throwing her hands up. “This is just what you’re like.” With that, Max walked away, leaving a stunned Mike standing in the corner.

Mike watched from the corner as Max went back to Lucas and El, then as Dustin, and finally Will and Sam all came together around the fountain. As Mike watched the six of them laughing together, the anger simmering inside him boiled over. He couldn’t believe that they could just replace him. That Will could just replace him. 

El must’ve felt something was wrong; she suddenly looked up from the book she had been reading and looked directly at Mike. For a moment, their eyes connected, and even though she was far away from him, he knew she felt exactly what was wrong. Mike thought about just heading back, carrying on with the day like nothing was wrong, but he couldn’t. The water had boiled over and there was no way to put it back in the pot. Mike turned his back on El and the rest of the party and headed for the door. He didn’t see him, but Will’s eyes followed Mike as he walked all the way down the hallway until he disappeared out the doors, melting with the many others leaving the mall alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around for an update, the appreciation is real.
> 
> I've had some changes of heart to how I want the story to go, so expect me to steer away from events from Season 3 as the story continues. There's gonna be multiple years worth of time jumps throughout the story, but we're gonna spend a couple more chapters in 1985 before the first jump. 
> 
> Any and all feedback as always is greatly appreciated (the alliteration is strong lol). I am trying to get better as a writer so I can work on some original content instead of whatever this nonsense is. Okay, that's all for now. See you in the next chapter!
> 
> -C


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